Only Delia had a rain cape, which made Cestin grumble under his breath, but Kordas was actually grateful for the downpour. His trews were already probably ruined, so a little rain wasn’t going to make any difference, but the unusually warm rain was doing wonders for rinsing the sticky birth-fluids away. “Hold this, would you?” he asked Delia, handing her his shirt and tunic so he could “wash” his hair as they walked.

It wasn’t that far to the manor, a fanciful piece of architecture sprouting delicate towers and elegant domes that was perfectly capable of holding the population of the entire Dukedom at a pinch, and was about as defensible as a sand castle. This, of course, was exactly how the Emperor wanted things; he did not want his landholders to be able to mount any kind of effective defense of their realms. He wanted to be able to march in and take everything if he pleased, and he wanted his nobles to be aware of that every single moment.

“Why is this storm so warm?” Delia asked, through the downpour. There wasn’t much lightning and thunder, but the amount of rain coming down was almost enough to drown out her words.

“There’s a war out on the frontier,” Kordas reminded her. “The Emperor never stops trying to conquer someone. I’m told there are lots of mages in those two armies, and it’s messing with the weather. I wouldn’t in the least be surprised to have this turn into a blizzard by morning.”

“I hope not!” Delia replied with alarm. “That would be a disaster!”

Kordas shrugged, then, aware that she couldn’t see him in the dark and downpour, added, “Not much we can do about it without tipping our hand to the Emperor that I have more mages living here than he is aware of.” Now, that was an advantage to having that enormous pile of a manor—he could have as many mages as he cared to host here, and unless they made themselves “visible,” no one would be the wiser.

And since at least a third of his mages were busy full time masking the presence of the others, he was as certain as he dared to be that the Emperor had no idea so many had come to him for protection. He glanced up at the tops of the towers overhead. There were lights in the windows of all of them. His mages were hard at work tonight—perhaps. Of course they could also be curled up next to their fires with cats (or dogs, but mages seemed to prefer cats), mulled ale, and a good book.

Cats, mulled ale, and a good book sounded very attractive right now, but his bed sounded even more attractive. At least he’d washed all the muck off. Though if Isla had ordered him a hot bath . . . I wouldn’t turn it down.